


For Thy Hand and Rod I Wait

by ThyErasmusBeDelivered (D20Owlbear)



Series: Warlock TV, Novelizations and Fics [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Slow Show (Warlock), Slow Show - mia ugly, Warlock (Slow Show)
Genre: 9 goddamn k of this softe shit, Bastardized Song of Songs, D/s overtones, Erasmus needs subspace y'all, M/M, Rated E for Explicitly Softe and Gentle, Song of Songs, Warlock - Slow Show, and Erasmus has in the past seen a sex worker, and they're so softe, dom William, first time doming, gentle scene, her name is Daisy, not first time subbing, sex work is important work, soft dom, song of solomon, sub Erasmus, very briefly mentioned - Freeform, we stan sex workers in this house
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:29:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/ThyErasmusBeDelivered
Summary: Erasmus needs his mind quieted, he's ripping himself apart at the seams. William just wants to help, and finds he might just like being of use in this particular way...
Relationships: Erasmus/William (Warlock - Slow Show)
Series: Warlock TV, Novelizations and Fics [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712140
Comments: 20
Kudos: 70
Collections: AJ’s personal faves, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Slow Show Metaverse, Warlock fic





	For Thy Hand and Rod I Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “Erasmus could use some subspace to deal with his constant state of vigilance, as a treat”
> 
> Thanks WPH for the prompt! It took 11 days to write 9k and I hope y'all like it, you feral fucks!

A twig snaps, echoing in a too-quiet forest, and Erasmus whirls around to snap at William, finger pointing at the man’s face with a snarl, “Be  _ quiet _ Neath!”

William’s lips turn down into a hard frown and his eyes darken, but he doesn’t say anything.

* * *

Julia whispers to Joshua in the dead of night; they have no fire and instead huddle up for warmth. Erasmus didn’t allow them to light any of the kindling, and every few minutes he tenses, sure he hears the Inquisition’s footsteps padding silently along, ready to slit their throats in their sleep.

He hisses a low, tense, “Julia, shut it!” that is only heightened by the snake-like qualities foisted upon him by the pendant that allows him to see in the dark. Julia frowns and pulls Joshua closer into her lap. Joshua hiccups loudly and flinches in response to Erasmus’ glare. 

Erasmus doesn’t notice.

* * *

“Ras!” Joshua yells cheerily, jumping onto Erasmus’ back as he sits, happy to see him after a bath in the river. 

Erasmus whirls around and grips at Joshua’s shoulder roughly, enough to make the child yelp in pain and cause his eyes to water. The wild look in Erasmus’ eyes fades immediately into guilt and he gathers up Joshua with a small, watery-sounding, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, you scared me, I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, kid.”

* * *

“Neath,” Erasmus begins, his pose threatening and his eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep, as he stalks across the main room of the cabin they’d found. It is on the edge of a smaller village and there are signs the Inquisition has been here. The cabin is half-filled with things the rest of the town likely didn’t need or didn’t feel justified in taking, and the entire place feels like sitting in a coffin. The fingernail scratches on the doorframe are chilling, made by more than one person it looks like from the varied heights of them as they were forced out of their home, but they need a place that is reliable enough to house them for a day or two more, maybe longer if they can manage it.

Erasmus almost made them continue walking past it, far too paranoid to let them stop here where the Inquisition has already been. William and Julia overruled him this time, and now Joshua and Julia are passed out in a bedroom somewhere on moth-eaten blankets. But William doesn’t blame either of them, they have had it particularly rough recently with the pace Erasmus set for their little, untrained platoon. 

“No, Erasmus,” William bites back, standing at his full height and grabbing Erasmus’ wrist with a force that betrayed the strength he usually kept under wraps. Erasmus stops in his tracks and sucked in a hard breath, glaring sullenly at William.

“You’ve been irritable and fly into a rage at the slightest provocation, it’s unlike you.” William continues, a little nervous at Erasmus’ piercing gaze focused solely on him but doing his best not to let it creep into his voice. The conman is out of his mind with nerves. William had noticed it relatively early on and didn’t know what brought it on, but the paranoia of the Inquisition catching them is becoming unbearable. “There is a time and place for everything, Erasmus, and I hate to say it but you are not making the correct judgments on that. Just  _ what _ has gotten into you?”

Erasmus is a child's inflated pig bladder, kicked into a briar patch, unexpectedly deflated and useless. His wrist is still in William’s hand though now it feels like William is holding him up, a last lifeline to keep him tethered to reality and sanity rather than keeping a crazed man in place so he doesn’t do anything rash.

“Erasmus?” William’s voice is soft and gentle, the kind of voice Erasmus has heard William use on injured animals when he thinks no one is looking, and it rankles to be thought of like a wounded animal who is wild with fear and hurt.  _ But is he wrong? _ Erasmus thinks to himself and places his forehead onto William’s chest to hide his face, steadying himself against the pillar of strength that William has always been, whether Erasmus knew it or not.

“You’re right,” Erasmus says at last, his voice croaking with the difficulty of voicing things he much prefers to keep hidden, of revealing things about himself most think is unbecoming and filthy. But then, William had taken Erasmus’ thoughts and feelings of masculinity and femininity in relation to himself, and how he is sometimes she or neither or both, in stride with very little reproach in his eyes. Perhaps none, even, as Erasmus is rarely the reliable storyteller he’d like people to believe.

“You’re right.” He repeats, “It’s been a while since I could relax. I–” Erasmus paused and swallowed loudly before pressing on, “I haven’t felt safe in a while, and you all rely on me so much, I have to be on guard all the time, especially because this  _ terrible _ pendant doesn’t work for you or Julia for some reason and—”

William places a finger on Erasmus’ lips, stopping him with a quiet  _ hush _ . “It’s alright, Erasmus, I understand. But we need to deal with this, you can’t help us when you’re like this, high strung and seconds away from snapping like an over-tuned lute string.”

Erasmus’ breath hitches and he presses his face deeper into William’s chest. William thinks he might be able to feel the frown through his clothes, but perhaps that’s just his imagination.

“I– I know– I mean, there’s something that helps,” Erasmus whispers and it makes William’s heartache with how broken the man sounds as he stutters, and somehow he knows this is taking quite a lot of vulnerability from a man who rarely allows himself to be so at all. “But it needs two people, at least. And– well, I don’t think– if you don’t want to that’s fine, that’s fine, but  _ please _ don’t leave ‘cause of me.” Erasmus’ hands are curled in William’s clothes at his shoulders and at some point, William had let go of Erasmus’ wrist to wrap his arms around the man’s waist to support him better.

“Of course not, you daft man. I  _ want _ to help you. You deserve to let someone else take up your burdens sometimes. And oxen yoked together share these burdens, you don’t have to be the lead on your own, Erasmus. Not anymore.” William soothes, running his thumbs slowly and firmly over the dips in Erasmus’ back where his hands rest. He knows by now that when the man gets agitated he can barely take soft touches at all, so William keeps his hands firm and strong as he holds Erasmus to him. 

“I,” Erasmus begins again, trembling hard enough that William can feel it everywhere Erasmus is touching him, even though the layers of clothing between them, “I don’t want you to think less of me,” he whispers, voice watery and he sounds half-way to laughing from nerves. 

“I don’t know if I ever could. Please, Erasmus, tell me what you need? If you know how I can help, please let me help you.” William tilts his head to lay his cheek on Erasmus’ temple and tightens his embrace, happy to feel the taller man lean into him further. Any more and he might worry that Erasmus would cease to hold any of his own weight, but the thought that he could support Erasmus like this has never been something William disliked. In fact, William often finds that outside of the purely physical fantasies of the man, the Erasmus he dreams of would let him take care of him. William rarely lets himself think about it much, since it always seems a bit too far fetched… but perhaps not after all?

“Let’s sit?” Erasmus mumbles, words muffled by William’s clothes so it takes him a moment to understand the request, but he happily pulls Erasmus back without breaking the embrace until he’s settling the both of them down into a chair. William has to loosen his hold on Erasmus to situate them properly, but he’s more than happy to have the tall man in his lap, even if the man can’t ever bring himself to sit properly in a chair. It’s far more endearing than William thinks it has any right to be. 

Erasmus is flushed about the cheeks and looking everywhere but at William’s face, and he clears his throat even as he leans into William, Erasmus’ arm around his shoulder and the length of his side firm against William. They’ve sat like this plenty of times, Erasmus draping himself over William, vacillating between jokes about him sitting like a soldier or like a child scared of the prioress teaching him numbers. But this time he doesn’t make any such jokes and that, if nothing else, tells William just how off-kilter Erasmus is. Especially now that he’s thinking about it, William can’t remember the last time Erasmus was so still and willing to relax against him without worrying about a threat nearby.

The redhead clears his throat again and starts to speak softly, haltingly, and so very, very nervously. "I need to be taken control of. From someone who I can, well, trust to know what they're doing. Submit myself, I guess, and not have to make any decisions or be the one who has to be in control of things.” Erasmus pauses again and William waits patiently for him to go on, sensing the man wasn’t quite finished yet, that there was more he needed to admit to. If nothing else, William was used to the cadence of confessions. “I need, sometimes not always, but every so often when my head starts going too fast for the rest of me and gallops off without me and drags me in the dust, I just need someone else to take the reins and make it stop. Need to just... just stop thinking for once."

“Is that all?” William asks. He thought to make it a joke, but it feels too far out of place like this. Instead, his tone is reverent as he waits with bated breath for Erasmus to confirm or deny it. And if there is more, William hopes so very much that it is similar, that William will be able to help Erasmus with what he needs.

“Is that all‽” Erasmus yelps, sitting up straight and staring William in the eyes. “William,” he hisses, quieting himself immediately after his outburst, and William is unsure if Erasmus realizes he’s called him by his given name rather than the  _ Neath _ he has grown so fond of, “You don’t– you don’t mind?”

“No,” William replies simply, with a small shrug of his shoulders and a slight smile on his lips, looking up at Erasmus from underneath his eyelashes, “Why should I? It sounds like that requires a lot of trust, my dear, to be so vulnerable in front of someone, to let them control you, as you said. I must surely be blessed that you would make me a gift of that trust, or that you might ever want to. So I ask you, Erasmus, my beloved, why would I ever mind your faith?”

Erasmus trembles again and William simply pulls him in tighter and lets the gangly man curl up in his lap until he’s impossibly small for such a large force of personality, and makes sure to wrap his arms around him and cover Erasmus with himself as much as he’s able. Time passes unnoticed by either man, who can worry about the mere slicing off of seconds and minutes when William is holding Erasmus so close that they might be one single entity. When Erasmus pulls himself back under his own control and breathes in deeply, it’s with a shuddering, trembling breath. Under normal circumstances, William might have worried, but he has a feeling that Erasmus might need to cry, or perhaps be given a place to break down with someone who will help him piece himself back together again.

“Now, how do I help you with that, dear boy?” William asks gently, rubbing circles on the small of Erasmus’ back with a firm but kind touch.

“Just. Just start like this, this is good.” Erasmus murmurs. “Maybe put your hands in my hair? If it’s not with a stranger I get drowsy… peaceful I suppose,” he continues, face heating up in renewed embarrassment. 

“Will you be able to tell me what you want, if you get drowsy?” William asks gently, prodding at the side of Erasmus’ neck as his hand snakes it way up to his hair. He hums happily when the man’s head topples to lay on his shoulder. Erasmus is already pliant beyond belief and William could feel the protectiveness growing as a fire stoked from an ember in his chest, warming the whole of him like a hot drink in a winter storm. He allows his fingers to explore all the ways that he can draw happy little noises from Erasmus, passing several long minutes before prodding him for an answer again.

Erasmus groans and sighs heavily, clearly displeased with having to think enough to string semi-coherent words together, and when William looks closely, his eyes are starting to look just a little glassy. His voice is slow and measured and it’s easy to tell he’s spending a lot of effort on his words, “No, not really. Think I could tell you if I  _ don’t _ want, though. C’n do that, if ya want.”

“Yes, I do, my dear.” William replies promptly, “How about, since you’ll have trouble saying anything, what if I give you something to hold? And if you let go, then I’ll know if you don’t need anything else and I can let you sleep the drowsiness off?”

“‘S alright, then.” Erasmus nuzzles his face into the crook of William’s neck and sighs as William cards firm fingers through his hair, stopping every once in a while to detangle a little before continuing on. 

“Continue, dear. What do you want me to do for you?” William prompts, threading a bit of a command into his voice, the kind that usually made Erasmus listen when he was being unreasonable or attempting to sleep. This time, however, it made Erasmus’ eyes open with a snap, large pupils darkening the color of his ochre eyes and turning them a much deeper brown on the edges. Oh,  _ oh _ , William sucks in a breath and stops stroking Erasmus’ hair. 

“Erasmus, I need you to tell me what you want. What do you need? I don’t want to overstep.” William says haltingly, beguiled by the look in Erasmus’ eyes.

“This is nice.” Erasmus sounds a little more in control of himself and his faculties and it eases some of William’s worry. “Could be like this the whole time, pet and touched. ‘S good. I dunno, whatever you want would be good too. Don’t want to make decisions, r’member?”

William’s lips pull into a flat, wry smile, “I know that, dear, but I need you to do this for me. I’ve never helped you like this before, so you must tell me the sorts of things that would  _ help _ you. What has before?”

William could feel Erasmus cease to breathe for a moment before sucking in a gulp of air and nodding. “Yeah, alright– ‘s fine– before I used to go to someone I paid, who knew me a little. Trusted her to be quiet ‘bout it and know where I had to stop and didn’t try to cross that line. Sometimes she’d beat me—” Erasmus threw his hands up and nearly fell off the chair if not for William’s hold on him when William went to protest, “Not! Not saying you gotta, but it worked sometimes. Kept the rest of me quiet and bruises from the cane were nice and kept me moored to the ground, ‘cause she knew how to do it. So it just hurt the  _ right _ amount.

“And sometimes she would just cover my eyes and have me stop up my ears so I couldn’t see and touch my skin with her hands and other things so I could only focus on the touch and nothing else, and that was all about  _ feeling _ things too, just differently so I was stuck in my body instead of runnin’ after my thoughts way up ahead without me.” Once Erasmus starts like this, pulled back into that frenetic energy of even just this morning, William knows he will have to calm him down again, but this is needed information. William might never have thought of any of those things on his own. 

“An’ I like being told what to do like that, so no choices, yeah? So sometimes she’d tell me what to do too, fist her hand in my hair and drag me over until she was done using me as she liked, and I was well-seen to too, but usually not until she got bored or whenever she decided she wanted to see me like that. Now I think about it, she probably liked having the control like that for once over someone paying her…”

And finally, William manages to get a word in edgewise, “So, that is to say, Ras,” he pretends not to notice how the force of Erasmus’ entire being isn’t trained on him right now at the shortening of his name, “You want me to use you, sexually?”

Erasmus shrugs and looks away sheepishly, “If you want, ‘s what it is, William, ‘s about what you want and I’ll just be there. Not makin’ decisions and lettin’ you do all that. Doesn’t  _ have _ to be sex, could be, could be not. Could start one way and end the other. ‘S fine all around.” William nods in acknowledgment and hums as he thinks.

“Alright then, dear. Get off my lap and stand.” Erasmus blinks in mild confusion at the words even as his breathing hitches at the tone William has taken on. It reminds him of soldiers and their commanders and good gods, he hadn’t known that would so utterly ruin him from William.

“What?” Erasmus asks intelligently.

“You heard me, Ras. Up.” William repeats, quirking an eyebrow in barely concealed mirth. Erasmus scrambles to obey and nearly trips over himself to do so.

William continues to sit but casts his eyes over the room; there isn’t much left that isn’t rotted to unusability but there are a few things. “Stoke the fire, Ras.” William says kindly, with that hint of command he pulls around him as easily as he breathes. William stands as soon as Erasmus turns to throw another log on the fire and take care of it until it catches properly and digs a small wooden ball Erasmus carved a few years ago. William kept it as a lucky charm; no matter that he doesn’t believe in lucky charms, Erasmus did, and gave it to him with symbols of all his prayers for William’s health and safety carved into it. He also spies a ceramic cooking pot. It's on the small side but perfect for what he wants.

William hefts it and brings it to Erasmus, setting it beside his legs as he kneels on the floor by the hearth. He waits for the man to finish the first task, and when Erasmus turns to look for approval over his shoulder, William lays a hand on his head and runs fingers through his hair until the man leans against his thigh. “Very good. Now, can you go fetch some water? I think there was a well close by, in the back.”

Erasmus tenses at the thought of leaving the cabin, because what if there is Inquisition nearby? What if they find them because Erasmus isn’t at his best? What if he doesn’t see them? Erasmus starts to breathe quicker and quicker until William kneels down beside him to cup his face with warm hands.

“Erasmus,” William says sternly, shaking the man from the beginnings of his panic with his tone and with the name. Erasmus hadn’t realized how comforting it had been to be called Ras by William, a nickname he never used anymore that felt comfortable and safe like an old blanket washed fresh in a favorite scent.

“Ras,” William repeats, his voice gentling now that he has Erasmus’ attention, “Can you do this for me? You don’t have to, my beloved, but you need to tell me if you can’t. I can fetch the water, and instead, you can look for a cloth. How about that, Ras?” 

Erasmus nods, eyes closing as he leans into William’s touch, his panic gone entirely and all his focus on the thumbs stroking his cheeks. He whines softly when William stands again and takes the warmth with him, because without William somehow even fires feel cool.

“Very good, my dear. Ras, I want you to find me a towel, or a washcloth. Can you do that for me?” William asks, grabbing the caldron again from the floor and smiling happily at Erasmus when he nods. “Oh, before that, Ras, come here.”

Erasmus does so, happily, and his head tilts in a way William can’t help but find endearing. Not unlike a dog with how his eyes shine in curiosity and tranquil pleasure at seeing their person. “Hold this,” William says, handing over the small, spherical charm the size of a large acorn to Erasmus and curling his fingers around it so it was firm in his palm.

“Oh.” Erasmus breathes, sounding like the breath was stolen from him and he looks ready to collapse, the weight of his realizations suddenly collecting on his shoulders. 

“Don’t let it go, not unless you need me to stop. Doing anything, saying anything, even if you just need a few moments before I tell you to do something else, do you understand, Ras?” William asks, keeping eye contact with the taller man and only when Erasmus nods again and William sees no glimmer of hesitation in his eyes does he breathe a sigh in relief. As much as he liked the idea of taking control of Erasmus and helping him in this way, the knowledge that command can be taken too far, and often is, niggles at the back of his head. He won’t hurt Erasmus, not when he has been so vulnerable and open with him, has gifted him with this trust, not even by accident if he can help it.

“Very good, my beloved.” William murmurs and pulls Erasmus’ hand up to his lips to press a soft kiss to his fingertips. The shiver that travels down Erasmus’ body is gratifying and he smiles as he leaves the cabin in search of the well he saw on their way to the building a few days prior.

William finds the well quickly, it was exactly where he remembered seeing it, and draws the water up with a rusty and squeaking lever. Erasmus’ panic earlier reminded him sharply of the potential danger being out in the open poses, and so he cannot be blamed for hurrying back inside. It was also warmer there. Erasmus, for his part, seems to relax in the shoulders when William steps back in with a smile and reaches out for the water William carries with an ease that betrays his hidden strength. 

“Put it over the fire and keep an eye on it, we’ll wait until it’s warmed.” There is no full bath in a place like this, or nowhere they found, but this will do just fine. It’s enough that they have somewhere warm and private to wash off and fresh water to do it with. Both are a rare luxury for their motley family. Erasmus does as told and as soon as the pot is nearly in the fire, he looks back to William who smiles in delight. Erasmus smiles back and William finds it comforting to see the man so relaxed after the last few weeks.

“Come here, sit for me again.” William says, gesturing at the floor by the chair he had held Erasmus in his lap not more than a few minutes ago. “There we are, my dear, very good.” He praises as Erasmus does what he’s asked, though William raises an eyebrow as Erasmus shoots him an impertinent sort of smile.

“Am I not allowed to praise you?” William asks rhetorically, and his smile becomes a little more like a smirk when Erasmus’ eyes turn wide at the question. “Ah– no talking, Ras, let me. Good, you do so well for me, don’t you? Sitting so prettily like I asked. And you made sure the fire will last for a good, long time yet, just as I asked. So very, very good for me, my dear.” William steps closer with every laudation that leaves his lips until he is standing in front of Erasmus, and then he continues on to seat himself in the chair.

William lets his fingers alight upon Erasmus’ shoulder and grips it firmly when the man tries to turn to look at him. Erasmus understands well enough and doesn’t try to keep turning, though he does huff opposition but settles himself quickly, instead he stares at the hearth straight ahead, just as William wants. In reward, William loosens his grip and trails his fingertips up Erasmus’ neck, never too light to bother him but not quite as unyielding as he is sure Erasmus would prefer, and then into his hair to tangle in the thick red locks that gently curve into waves and curls. 

William loves Erasmus’ hair and could play with it for hours, combing it with his fingers or with a stiff-bristled brush or even plaiting it only to undo it and plait his hair once more. And, since there is no rush while the water heats, and William has been given free rein over Erasmus, he does just that. There is no brush or comb for him to use, so instead, he carefully uses his fingers to rake through Erasmus’ hair, marveling at the deep copper-red of it and happily complimenting the man both for his hair and for his stillness. He does not mention the tremor he feels run down Erasmus’ body as he kneels between his legs, nor does he mention the way Erasmus starts to have trouble keeping his head from bobbing with every pull of his hair for fear of him becoming worried about it.

William keeps an eye on the water and an equally careful watch on Erasmus, even as he feels himself begin to relax as well. It’s freeing, in a sense, to be in control like this and have Erasmus pliant beneath his hands. It’s enough to help him banish any worries of his lack of experience, knowledge, or confidence. Uncertainty is a common theme in his life, he is uncertain of most things at any given time, whether they are the actions he has chosen to take or it is of people or situations he is not accustomed to. William prefers greatly the clarity and assurance of chains of command, where orders are taken and given and, especially in low stake situations, the orders are easy to give. And so, he finds himself falling into the rhythm as well, pleasantly so.

The water begins to simmer and that is far too hot to bathe in, so he finishes fishtail plaiting Erasmus’ hair one more time and ties it off before squeezing his shoulder and informing him to stand. Erasmus does so as William crosses to the hearth and carefully, with help of the thick cloth Erasmus found and moves the pot away from the fire to cool, removing the lid on it as well. 

“Is this alright?” William asks gently, hooking a finger underneath Erasmus’ doublet that is perpetually only half-laced, and pulls the ties from one of the eyelets and waits. It takes Erasmus a bit of time to think through the implications in his state but, eventually, he nods. 

“Very good, Ras. Thank you for letting me take care of you.” William murmurs with a smile and places a kiss on Erasmus’ chest, just over where his heart is beating strong and steady. William’s fingers deftly continue to unlace the doublet and in no time at all, he’s able to push it off Erasmus’ shoulders. Then, he trails his hands down from shoulders, over the slopes of ribs, and down further still until his hands are tight on Erasmus’ hips. The tunic Erasmus wears is swiftly bunched up as William pushes his hands under the hem and feels the travel-roughened skin underneath and he smiles at the thought of washing away the forest and trails they’ve taken up to this point and replacing the feel of it with his hands. A surge of soft possessiveness, or perhaps it’s protectiveness instead, fills William and sits in his chest just under his heart like a fire-starter ember housed in a hollow reed.

Erasmus shivers, gooseflesh appearing all over his skin wherever William turns his touch to, and William is pleased enough to kiss the hollow just beneath his throat. 

“The bridegroom looks upon his bride and sees the face of love.” William recites lowly, smiling and laying soft kisses on the skin he slowly reveals around Erasmus’ collar and along his neck up to his jaw. “And he is overcome at the beauty before him, and he turns to go beside her. ‘Your eyes through your veil are as sloe, how beautiful you are.’” Erasmus breathes in sharply and his eyes focus on William in a way they hadn’t since before they began this endeavor. William meets his eyes and leans in to kiss him gently on the lips, doing nothing more than holding him close to feel the heat of their bodies mingling between them and revel in his ability to kiss Erasmus as he chooses, when he likes, and however he wants.

William pulls back and rucks Erasmus’ tunic up over his head, baring his chest and leaving him in only his braies and stockings and his chest free for William to lavish attention on. Usually, by now, Erasmus would have his hands on William, but now they remain politely by his sides, relaxed and loose. William can’t help but think that it is a good sign, that Erasmus is taken in by this, and feels just as beloved as he is, just as cherished as William holds him to be. 

His lips and tongue descend for only a moment, long enough to pull a whining sound from Erasmus as he gives his attention to the peaks of his nipples and trips his fingers along the waistband of the braies to where the ties of the stockings are. “Your hair is finely spun threads, pulled to loom and woven until they number thousands. Your lips are scarlet ribbons, and your mouth is lovely. Your cheeks behind your veil are as the halves of a pomegranate, split so that I may marvel at them.”

William takes a moment to pull back from Erasmus and marvel at him, at the man who has placed so much trust in him over the years despite their rocky start. Who is letting William hold him close and trusts him with his body and his health. It’s nearly overwhelming the amount of love William has for Erasmus right now, so he shows it the only way he can. William presses his love into Erasmus’ skin like bruises with his tongue and teeth, gently teasing redness to the surface of his skin and lavishing affection over the man’s body with a leisure they normally do not have available to them. The priesthood had, if nothing else, taught William the meaning of patience and the joy of gleeful service, and he is more than happy to make use of such things here.

Erasmus pants ragged breaths and from his lips falls a steady stream of noises from the back of his throat, high pitched keening and breathy whimpers as he stands still and lets William have full liberty to his body. But then William remembers the cooling water by the hearth and unties the woolen stockings from their place at Erasmus’ hips and he kneels, kissing his love into every inch he can down the lean stomach and bony hips, and down further after untying the braies so that they drop to the floor on top of the stockings. William takes hold of one of Erasmus’ hands, places it on his shoulder for balance, and then returns to his task of getting the lanky man out of his clothes. He peels the stockings off Erasmus’ feet, lifting his legs one at a time and kissing the inside of his knees, once more pleased at the shiver his lips elicit.

He stands once more and guides Erasmus closer to the fire, wanting to be sure any trembling is from his attention and not from the cold, and bids him to sit on the floor. “Very good, my dear,” William whispers as he kneels once more, behind Erasmus and reaches over his shoulder to the hot water, just now cool enough to be put to skin without pain. 

William wets the cloth and wrings it in his hands until it is damp but the water won’t run off Erasmus’ skin faster than William can follow the trail. This is not something William intends to be quick, instead, he wants to take his time seeing to Erasmus. He wants to lay the taller man down and drink in the sight of him and give him all the things he deserves. Erasmus, William thinks, deserves quite a lot more than he’s ever had the luck of having. But this is something William can fix, at least for a little while. And so he does.

William recites the love song of songs, and praises Erasmus’ beauty and the feel of him under William’s hands from his place at Erasmus’ back, all the while he firmly scrubs the heated cloth and sloughs off any of the road left on his skin until it Erasmus has been rubbed red and sensitive. He takes his time and doesn’t wonder at how long it has been since he started, instead focusing on turning Erasmus’ thoughts to the feel of his hands and the coarseness of the cloth and the heat of the water and fire.

“Tell me what you feel, Ras.” William commands softly, kissing the red hair just below his chin as he supports Erasmus’ head with a hand cupped under his jaw and along the side of his head, with palm firmly supporting the weight of his skull while he lets still-warm water trickle down Erasmus’ chest for a few moments before bringing the cloth down to chase it. 

“‘S warm.” Erasmus murmurs after a moment, and William nearly has to stop what he’s doing to prompt an answer, but he’s not worried. It seems that’s simply how Erasmus is when he’s given time to relax, when he’s not forced to be quick-witted and always on the look-out. 

“And what else, my dear?” William asks, abandoning the cloth now that he deems Erasmus clean and sedate, trailing his fingertips a little lighter than before down Erasmus’ ribs. Still not light enough to bother the man on a good day, but not as insistently firm as before, watching carefully to see if he might be able to lighten the pressure and tease with feather-light touches. Erasmus trembles and his breath catches as his face twists to a grimace when William’s touch becomes too light, so he doesn’t do it again and takes care to keep his touch just as light or heavy as Erasmus can stand. 

“Your hands.” Erasmus says at last, “They’re nice too. Feel ‘em on my skin. ‘S good. And the fire’s warm, ‘n the water’s cold leftover.” William almost stops in his stroking of Erasmus’ body as he tries to make sense of whatever it was the Erasmus said, but it sounds like the man is drifting in a dream so William dismisses the need to know. He can figure it out well enough, and it’s almost comforting to know he can turn off Erasmus’ running mouth with some well-placed touch and a bath. William wonders if Erasmus might react the same if they had a real tub he could scrub the man down in and cover in sweet-smelling oils and comb his hair to plait it properly in intricate styles. Would Erasmus keep the braids?

“My hands, Ras?” William asks with a smile, moving Erasmus with the hand on his head so that he’s leaning against William’s chest and he moves Erasmus as he likes until William is settled comfortably on the floor as well. His legs are crossed loosely and Erasmus is sitting in his lap, leaning back over him and his face buried into William’s neck, which gives William the lovely advantage of being able to hear every breathy whimper or bitten off moan and feel every minute shiver along his spine. 

William touches the center of Erasmus’ chest, soft at first, but with increasing pressure as he follows the slight dip of his sternum. He pauses to circle one nipple with a fingertip, his touch both gentle and firm, the other he rolls between a finger and thumb, drawing sweet sounds from Erasmus. The tall man made up of sharp edges and hard planes is somehow softer like this, the sounds he makes are sweeter than cool water on a hot day, and William drinks him in with an unmatched pleasure. 

“So good for me, sweet Ras,” William murmurs when Erasmus arches up into his touches. William rewards him with a biting kiss beneath the hinge of his jaw and resumes the downward path of his hands. Erasmus trembles as one strokes down his side, over his ribs to settle on his hip, and the other follows the path of sparse hair down the center of his chest and belly.

Erasmus whimpers as William’s thumb lightly circles his belly button.

“Would you like for me to touch you now?” William asks, low and so perfectly in control that Erasmus’ minimal control over himself is undone. He whines, a bereft, keening noise as his head falls back onto William's shoulder. William thinks to refrain from taking Erasmus' lips but his breath is sucked from his lungs at the realization that he doesn't have to deny himself. 

And so, he brings the hand up from Erasmus' hip, catches his chin between fingers, and tilts their heads so lips meet in a fiery kiss. William swallows Erasmus' moans with a grin even as his stray hand follows the trail of hair from stomach to pelvis and then beyond. 

Erasmus arches hard enough into William's touch that he breaks the kiss, muffling the noises escaping him. But William's hand is wrapped around him, stroking him leisurely with just enough pressure to keep him from grimacing in displeasure but not nearly enough to give Erasmus what he wants. William takes his time, he wants to bring Erasmus to the edge and back off from it, and greedily drink in every sound he makes and memorize all the ways his face and body contort in pleasure.

Idly, William thinks that they’re lucky it’s only just the tail end of summer and autumn hasn’t started in full swing yet. It’s warm enough that the lack of clothing, even with damp skin, doesn’t bother Erasmus unduly when they’re this close to the fire, and it’s not so warm that William isn’t overheating while still fully dressed. The thoughts wind back around to Erasmus and how this vexatious man always seems to make him want to recite poetry. About his body, about his goodness, and everything else about Erasmus. 

So he does. William removes his hand from Erasmus’ chin and lets it roam where it pleases, pinching gently at peaked nipples and soothing the sensation with kind fingers, and turns his head so his lips brush over Erasmus’ ear. 

“Until the day breaks and the shadows flee, I will go to the mountain of myrrh and to the hill of incense. You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.” William whispers hotly, finally taking hold of Erasmus in a way that causes him to cry out pitifully and arch his back again as his hands scrabble for purchase in William’s shirt. Anything to keep him here in these sensations and not flying off at the speed of an arrow from an overdrawn bow.

“You have stolen my heart, my Erasmus; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your necklace.” William continued, the hand on Erasmus’ chest traveling down further to grip tightly at his hip and pulls at him to shift his body so that William has easier access to his neck, laying kisses and biting dark bruises like jewels into his shoulders and throat between verses of holy song, “How delightful is your love, my beloved! How much more pleasing is your love than wine, and the fragrance of you more than any spice!”

William entices Erasmus to turn his head and leads him into another kiss, soft and sweet, and rewards him with the friction Erasmus has been chasing, firmer strokes and a tighter grip, and revels in the ragged breathing between their kisses. “Your lips drop sweetness as the honeycomb, my bride; milk and honey are under your tongue.” William murmurs, his own voice as spiced honey, heated and sweet and coating all of Erasmus with his love. 

Erasmus moans and writhes in William’s grip and underneath the onslaught of his lips until he spills over William’s hand and his stomach is coated with his seed. The world seems to pause for a few moments, William places a kiss on the hinge of Erasmus’ jaw, and says gently, reverently, “You’re so very good to me, Ras, my beloved.” And he removes his hand from Erasmus to lick up the spend on it, humming in thought at the taste. Perhaps not something he enjoys, but the novelty of having the time and the space to indulge in this is enough for now. 

Instead, William reaches over to the washcloth and the water, and rinses his hand before wiping up the cooling spend. The water is no longer heated, but nor is it cold. But William does not play with droplets like before and simply cleans Erasmus’ skin once more with steady, firm strokes skirting away from oversensitive areas, until Erasmus ceases shaking in the aftermath of his climax.

“There, my dear,” William whispers all the while, sweet nothings that do not mean much of anything other than a steady stream of love and confirmation of the goodness and loving kindness William knows Erasmus’ soul is made of. “My sweet darling, my beloved, how good you are for me. You would hang the stars, I’m sure of it. My dearest and most loved, your trust is shattering, my dear. I think I could die from it, how much the love for you grows in my chest and chokes me with it sometimes. I wouldn’t have it any other way, Ras. My Erasmus.”

As William whispers his love and cleanses Erasmus once more, the man’s eyes become less cloudy little by little. Soon, Erasmus begins to move, he sits up under his own power and twists at the waist in William’s lap so that he can catch his lips in a heated kiss. William gasps softly at the unexpected intensity, which Erasmus takes advantage of with a low hum, slipping his tongue into William’s mouth and turning more until he’s sideways against William. He drops the little wooden ball into his lap and his arms wrap around the broader man’s shoulders, he tilts his head, deepening the kiss even further. William makes a few noises of confusion in the back of his throat, but wraps his arms around Erasmus’ waist to hold him close.

He isn’t sure what’s happening and why Erasmus has suddenly pivoted so wildly; it feels like when they’ve been separated for a long while, or like either of them might have gone without release for an extended period of time. The kiss feels hungry and searching and William has no idea what Erasmus is looking for, only that he’s trying desperately to give it, until he breaks the kiss with a breathy moan as Erasmus grinds down between his legs, his hip delivering firm friction to the ache between William’s legs.

“Ras– ‘Rasmus,” William pants, his hands migrating up Erasmus’ back and clutching at his shoulders to pull him back. “My dear, not that I’m complaining, but what’s gotten into you? That’s all you wanted from me?” 

William’s heart sinks and he knows he shouldn’t be hurt the way he is, perhaps he became too invested in this particular dalliance between them. Erasmus had certainly seemed both overly casual and somewhat ashamed for wanting it, needing it. So it stands to reason that now it is over, whatever it was, Erasmus is done with it. William, on the other hand, can’t seem to help his desire to keep doing the same, to continue to be sweet and giving, to reign over Erasmus’ body and hold close that vulnerability. 

Erasmus ducks his head and kisses at William’s neck, hands traveling down his chest and gripping at his waist before he answers with a husky voice, “I want plenty from you, Neath.”

William gasps again as Erasmus bites at his neck in the way he knows William likes and rubs his thumbs along his sides. “Wait– Erasmus, wait!” William says sternly, changing his grip so that his palms are flat on Erasmus’ chest and he’s pushing the man away from him.

“I meant– that is, I had hoped– you mentioned before that you liked being laid in bed, my dear.” William stutters at first, nervously for some reason, as if this were somehow more intimate than before, rejecting your lover when he tried to pleasure you.

Erasmus furrows his brows and frowns, a face William knows is the one he makes when he’s confused. “You don’t want me?” The words lend credence to William’s interpretation, befuddlement clear in Erasmus’ tone and body language.

“No, no my dear, I  _ want _ you, certainly,” William’s eyes dart down to their laps, where surely Erasmus ought to be able to feel the hardness beneath his clothing against the man’s naked thigh, “Of that you should have no doubt. But, oh I don’t know.” William sighs loudly and worries at his lip with his teeth for a moment. 

Erasmus cups William’s face with his hands and draws William’s lower lips from between his teeth with a thumb gently tugging. “You don’t know?” Erasmus asks gently, and waits patiently, the calm and serenity leftover from earlier is still settled comfortably in his chest and he’s breathing easier than he has in some time now.

“I had thought it would be nice, I suppose, to simply hold you.” William’s eyes darted over Erasmus’ shoulder, focusing on the fire in the hearth behind him. “To take care of you and help you get to that place that you need to be and then bundle you up in bed and continue to play with your hair or perhaps just touch your skin as you fell asleep.”

Erasmus swallows and lips his lips. “Is that– is that what  _ you _ want?” He asks, sounding much smaller than he is, and somewhat awestruck.

“Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t have said so otherwise.” William turns the full force of his genuine smile onto Erasmus, his eyes crinkling at the edges into well-worn crows feet and love pouring out of him. Erasmus makes a noise like a tired horse after being ran to its limit and slumps over, his full weight on William once more. 

“Just what did I do to deserve you, you bastard.” Erasmus whispers, muffled in William’s shoulder.

“Nothing, I should think, my beloved.” William whispers back, nuzzling his face into Erasmus’ hair, smiling conspiratorially, “Love isn’t ever something earned. But I can assure you, you’ve gotten everything you’ve deserved from me, my Erasmus, and I look forward to spoiling you with my affections until you’re thoroughly rotten. And then perhaps doing this again, in the future, if you’d like…”

“If I’d like, he says,” Erasmus mutters with a grin wide enough William can feel it through the layers of clothing on his shoulder, “‘f course I’d like, this was… good. It was very good.”

“I’m glad,” William breathes and once more repositions his hands so that he can wrap his arms around Erasmus again and pull him tightly to his chest. “I enjoyed it a lot too, actually. But I would certainly enjoy feeling you sleep in my arms tonight, without worrying about the morning. Do you think you can do it? One last thing, for me?”

Erasmus lifts his head and lays a delicate kiss to William’s cheek, “Anything. Anything you like, I’d do it for you if you asked me.”

“Good,” William murmurs and prods ad Erasmus to get off his lap with a quietly pleased smile, “Then I’m sure you won’t mind as I do this!” William stands only half a second after Erasmus does, ignoring the dull thunk of the wooden ball falling to the floor and rolling off towards the door though William makes a note of where it’s gone. William fluidly braces himself in a stance wide enough that he can sweep Erasmus off his feet and into an easy carry with little to no trouble. Erasmus makes a noise like a puffed-up cat before settling down in William’s hold, though he does wrap his arms around William’s neck to unintentionally complete the look. William has his arms firmly underneath Erasmus’ knees and back and Erasmus’s heart flutters in his chest at how easily William seems to support him, nary a tremor in his thighs or hands to betray him.

William hums contentedly to himself on the way to the bed left open for them, and Erasmus curls up even further in his arms, wanting nothing more than to dissolve into the rumble of William’s chest like salt into seawater. William takes him to bed, not in the way Erasmus has thought before, not for his own completion in recompense for seeing to Erasmus’ needs. Instead, William takes him to bed so that they can continue to bask in the slow, soft intimacy they have been sharing since this started, so that they can both continue to partake in each other in the chaste ways they so often do. 

It burns a hole into Erasmus’ soul, burrows deep inside him and plants a flowering green thing, filling his chest with vines and roots that would kill him if it were ever pulled out from him. William has planted in him a thing of love, of companionship and adoration, of desire of body and mind and soul, and of fond devotion the liked Erasmus has never been the recipient of before.  _ This, _ Erasmus thinks to himself,  _ is what I would burn the world for if it came to it. My family, and this man, they make up the whole of me. _

William lays him down gently on the bed and pulls back the blankets that were unearthed for them by Julia when they’d found this place. They aren’t soft, but they’ll do, and Erasmus finds he doesn’t mind it nearly as much as he expects, to have them cover his naked skin, because William is stripping himself efficiently and gets underneath them with only his braies left on.

Erasmus pouts at him and tugs at the waistband of the braies, fingering the ties until William taps his wrist in mild admonishment. “None of that, dear, just go to sleep. I’m here, we’re all here and we’re all safe. I’ve got you.” William murmurs while pulling Erasmus into his arms and onto his chest. Erasmus happily closes his eyes and buries his face into the crook of William’s neck, letting his arms flop where they like, one across William’s chest and the other curled up between their bodies, and tangles their legs together until there’s no part of him that isn’t also touching William. 

They sigh, seemingly in tandem, at how easily they slot together, as if they were made for one another. Not quite two halves of a whole, nothing so easy as that, not with how they met and these hard, defining years they’ve battled through. They were forged together though, as matching pieces, complementary and part of a set so that they may be useful separately but become something more when together. They fit together like they were made at the same time, of the same stuff, and of the same design, and that is something both William and Erasmus has no trouble believing in their heart of hearts.

William’s hand strokes down Erasmus’ back in slow, long motions with a deliberateness that soothes whatever reservations Erasmus might have left. He is lulled quickly into a half-asleep state not so different from before, though now it's difficult to keep his eyes open. So he doesn’t try, and his breathing begins to even and slow, and his heart beats in time with William’s, or at least it feels like it does with how he’s laid on top of the stockier man.

Every so often, William turns his head to kiss Erasmus’ temple, and in return Erasmus purses his lips to lay his affection on William’s neck, and William’s hand doesn’t stop its soothing motions for as long as Erasmus is awake, though it slows considerably over time. They both doze a little, basking in the afterglow of being taken care of and being allowed to take care and the intense intimacy of such exchanges, both feeling fulfilled to overflowing. Soon enough, Erasmus is unable to stay awake, he drifts off feeling warm and loved and cherished beyond belief in ways he never thought he’d have. William follows soon after, feeling essential and needed like he hadn’t known he could be for a long time and peaceful beyond measure.

There is no need for holiness here that drags him tiredly along, there is no need for anything but the small comforts they can draw from one another in this bed and under these blankets. William slips into a deep sleep, it is the smoothest transition from wakefulness into slumber that he will remember ever having.

When they wake in the morning they are still warm, still peaceful, and plenty happy to remain gently touching without any urgency in it. There are no end goals here, their hands meander with no final destination in sight, and they kiss and laugh happily into each other’s mouths.

William slept through the night and, for the first time in six years, has woken up refreshed. Erasmus woke up once to pull his hand from between their chests and angle it underneath the sorry pillow they found before it went fully numb, and fell back asleep with no anxiousness to keep him awake.

The sound of a child running over wooden boards and slamming open the door to the room with a loud, giggling shout of “Will! Rasmus!” from Joshua, followed closely by Julia’s fondly exasperated, “Joshua,” settles something in their chests even further. Erasmus groans loudly and theatrically, pulling the blanket up over his head and William laughs just as loudly as Joshua. Julia meets his eyes as he sits up and pats Erasmus’ head through the blanket fondly, and she smiles brightly.

Perhaps this may not last, they have plenty of road left before them and they’re not out of the woods yet. But for their family, both William and Erasmus will happily wait until the world ends if it means they can have this.

It may not be theirs by the water of the womb, but it is theirs by blood spilt and tears shed and the calluses they’ve built on their hands. And that’s more than enough for them. 


End file.
